The Sound of Text Messages
by Ryunn Kazan
Summary: "Hello?" she answered with a dry throat. "Good Evening my lovely Lady Belle! This is your volunteer neighborhood florist!"-"Jefferson stop texting me!" she growled. "PLEASE TAKE ME BACK! I'M DYING!" *JumBelle*
1. The Sound of Text Messages

_This is not related to my other stories, but __**Bella**__ is the name I'm using as her counterpart. If anyone takes this name, he/she shall wake up with mayonnaise in their bedroom slippers._

_Fic inspired by Utada Hikaru's "Exodus '04", the RoyXRiza relationship, and rufeepeach's "Monday Mornings"._

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"_It's all your fault! You were supposed to take the keys with you, you stupid girl! I should have left you in that basement to rot!"_

Those words echoed through her head as Belle slammed the door to her apartment to a shaking close. She stabbed her fist into the wall and kicked a few objects around to release the frustration and anger brewing inside her.

Damn that man she was forced to call father! How could he blame her for such petty things? It was a truck for goodness sakes! It wasn't like it hadn't been stolen before; it would turn up in a day or two with everything still in tact. He however hadn't seemed to realize that and immediately went into a rage that required breaking most of her belongings that she had yet to move into her new apartment.

She slid to the floor and pushed herself into the cold wood. She pinched the bridge of her nose and gingerly soothed over a cut on her cheek, courtesy of a flower pot and her father's accurate throwing skills.

She should have left him the second she checked out of the hospital four months ago, but she had a mindset that without family, there was nothing. She once thought that she needed his company and he needed hers, but lately all she wanted was to be away from him. He wasn't the kind, understanding father from the Enchanted Forest any longer; he was a lukewarm abusive prick who needed one Hell of a therapy session.

But there was a saying to count your blessings, and she had more than enough to count.

Granny and Ruby were offering her a part time job at the dinner to help her escape her father's iron fist.

She had made a friend with the town hermit, Jefferson, who much to her surprise was an elaborate bookworm like herself often met her for "dates" in the library. He also made the best tea in all of Maine. She once considered asking him out, but found herself more infatuated with…someone else.

But despite the love the town had given her, she still felt this intense misery that was enough to take her to bed each night sobbing. She was stuck in time, forced to conceal her knowledge of the curse from everyone. She couldn't stand seeing her friends and acquaintances with the people they were never meant to be with. The look in Mary Margret's eyes each time David Nolan strolled down the street arm and arm with his false wife Katherine was enough to make her want to cry with her. The longing in Leroy's eyes each time he sat at the counters of Granny's with a drink his hand for the klutzy Nun made her drink to match him. Not to mention how much it effected her own life. She knew that if her father was able to remember that things between them would improve so much.

Not to mention she would be able to spend all the time she wanted with-

The sound of a mind piercing ring screeched through the small living room unexpectedly, making Belle jump out of her thoughts. She stood and began to pace in order to allowed her hear to steady before pulling her cell phone out of her pocket and opening it. She hoped it wasn't her father to "apologize".

"Hello?" she answered with a dry throat

"_Good Evening my lovely Lady Belle! This is your volunteer neighborhood florist!"_

Belle's senses sparked and she scurried to the window, searching the visible areas of the cul-de-sac before her eyes landed a white truck, a disheveled Mr. Gold holding a cell phone waving stupidly in her direction. Why was she only slightly surprised that he was the culprit?

"W-How the Hell did you get the truck?" She heard Mr. Gold's chuckle on the other end of the line and knew instantly that he meant trouble.

"_Sorry to cause you such a startle. I had a bit too much of the scotch tonight and somehow ended up with your father's flower truck, which is full of roses, by the way."_

Belle sighed and leaned into the cool glass.

"_Want to do me a favor and take some of them off my hands?" _

"Thanks, but believe it or not, the scent of flowers makes me sick."

"_You truly don't have the soul of flouriest in you."_

She shrugged, knowing he could see her. "I'm in there six days a week; that's enough to make anyone nauseous. Besides, I left my flower vases at my father's when I moved in here."

"_Well, if you had moved in with me as I offered, my gorgeous Lady Belle-"_

She shushed him harshly. "Don't call me that! Regina has ears all over this town; one slip up and it's back to the basement with me." the words that came out of her mouth made her stomach drop, but they were true and it made her means to be careful grow greater.

"_She'd lose both hands before got the chance to touch you,"_ Mr. Gold threatened, hostility layering over the alcohol in his voice. _**"Bella."**_

Belle shook her head as she laughed softly. The man advancing slowly outside her apartment had always been protective of her, ever sense the day she was claimed sane enough to leave the hospital. His house was the first place she went, and there had never been a more tearful reunion on earth like the one they shared.

He had been her crutch, her guide, everything she needed from then.

Except her lover.

Faith and The Evil Queen's curse had been just as cruel to them as was the entire town.

An affair was unquestionable. Nothing escaped a small town full of liars and gossipers. Gold could risk himself being slandered, as he was used to the hatred. However, he couldn't bare the idea of the sweet, kind-hearted and selfless Bella French being frowned upon for such a harmless infidelity.

For the time being, they were forced to be perfect strangers who shared an awkward glance in the dinner or just the slightest brush of the arms when they passed each other on the street. Regina had yet to beat them.

"Gold, it's past midnight, I'm tired and need a shower." she didn't realize that her voice was cracking-but he did.

He was now just outside the building standing under a street lamp. His posture was stiff and she could just barely trace a frown on his lips.

_"What's wrong?"_

A drop of sweat ran down her icy spine. "Nothing."

"_Don't lie to me Belle. I saw the way you left the shop earlier. You were __**screaming **__at each other."_

She turned her back on the window to escape the sight of his accusing form. Yet, she refused to remove the phone from her ear. It was true: nothing went unnoticed in a small town.

"_Did he hurt you?"_

She absently fingered the small cut on her cheek. "Just my feelings."

"_Liar." _he growled harshly.

"We'll it's your fault! Why steal the van of all things; you know that's his livelihood!"

"_Like I said, I was drinking and had this mind set that the most beautiful woman in the world might want a little color in her new home."_

Belle turned to the window once more. He couldn't make out the expression on his face but the emotion in his voice gave away the feelings he felt towards her .She so badly wanted to let him in, to embrace him and feel him, but fate was too cruel. Her eyes lifted and she caught a dim scene of her reflection. "I'm not pretty in the least." she muttered into the phone as she ran a hand through her tattered curls.

"_I used the term "beautiful" Dearie; if you're going to lie, at least use the words I've laid out for you."_

"You're one to call me a liar; you make Pinocchio look like a saint compared to the dishonestly you've laid out." She closed her lips immediately. She hadn't meant to sound so harsh. She was relieved when she saw his body slouch and a great laugh irrupted through the speaker. She laughed along, just because it felt good; because it was one of the few things they could share without consequences.

"_My, my, aren't we becoming highly opinionated nowadays."_

"Oh hush." she teased. She allowed only a moment of silence to drag between them before she decided that 12:47 a.m. was as late as she could stay on the phone. "Rum, I have to go." She could hear him gasp lightly on the other end.

_"You said my name; don't be alarmed if I die from shock tonight."_

"Well don't be surprised if I die from only five hours of sleep so…"

_"Yes, yes of course. Goodnight angel."_

"Same to you, and thanks for thinking of me earlier." She was ready to put the receiver down when a final thought ran across her mind. "Gold!"

He hadn't even looked away._ "Yes?"_

She lifted the window and put the phone to her breast. "Take the truck back!"

He closed his cellular device with a slap. "Yes Lady Belle!"

"It's _Bella_!"

"I hate that name with a passion!"

"And I'm sure Madame Mayor hates having her plans foiled!"

"I'd love to see her try and stop me!" he went hollering all the way back to the truck, which he cranked up and sped down the street with a rough swerve every now and again.

"You fool!" she laughed into the night. She waited until the roar of the engine faded into the night before closing up her window. Despite the curse, the abuse, the torment, she had something to look forward to, and that was Mr. Gold and his shenanigans.

She returned to her room and placed her phone on her bed-table while she changed from her street clothing. As she combed her hair out, the phone began to buzz. She was curious as she rarely received text messages. It was from Gold unsurprisingly.

_Mis u._

Belle rolled her eyes and began clicking away.

_Learn to spell!_

The next morning, Belle found Emma Swan standing in front of her father's white flower truck, which was embedded in a bent light pole just a few shops away from the flouriest.

"Morning Bella." Emma greeted tiredly. She pointed the pen she was writing with at the truck. "Found the truck!"

Belle chuckled her thanks and began examining it. "Does my father know?"

"Yeah; he's trying to get a hold of the people who ordered flowers to tell them that he'll need to refund them."

"Refund them? Why?"

Emma led Belle to the back and opened the door. Belle was surprised to see that vases and all were intact but all the flowers were missing.

"What on earth?"

Emma shifted into her coat pocket and pull out a sheet of folded paper and handed it to her. "Maybe you can help me out."

Belle opened the note hastily, her eyes widening with each word.

_The scent of flowers makes her sick, despite how roses make her smile, daisies make her look younger, and posies help her sleep. You're welcome._

_-You're volunteer neighborhood Flouriest_

"You're father's clueless; do you have any idea who could have done this?"

Irate and jittery happiness flowed through her blood like the wind was blowing through her hair. How could he be so stupid! He could get away with trying to sabotage her father once, but this was his means of survival he had mucked with! Yet…he did it for her, even if it was in the most twisted way imaginable.

Something told her to look out into the small crowd of bystanders gathered around the scene. Behind them in the shadows of the bakery were none other than Mr. Gold. He caught her gaze and smirked, bowing mockingly, obviously still hung over.

Belle slower folded up the piece of paper and squeezed it.

"I haven't the slightest idea Sheriff."

_Later._

Mr. Gold's phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and sighed with annoyance as he opened his inbox.

_Thank You. Idiot._

His eyes lifted to see Belle watching him, a lovely smile on her face as she avoided the pickup crew crawling around to remove the bent metal.

For a moment, Mr. Gold felt as if the small crowd and everyone else didn't exist. It was just him and Belle. Well, Bella for the time being.

He clicked away.

_You R Welcome. Dearee_

_Your spelling is disgraceful!_


	2. The Scent of China

…_I was terribly afraid to tell him what I suspected. With my head bowed low against his chest, I asked, "Chris, it was a sinful thing we did, wasn't it?"_

"_It won't happen again," he said stiffly, ten broke away and almost ran down the all as if I was chasing him. I wanted to lead a good life and hurt no one, especially Chris. While he slept, I crawled in the bed beside him. He wakened when heard the bedsprings squeak. "Cathy, what the Hell are you doing?"_

"_It's raining outside, just let me lie beside you for a moment then I'll go away." Neither of us moved or even breathed. Then without even knowing how it came about, we were in each other's arms and he was kissing me. Kissing me with such ardent fervor it made me respond when I didn't want to. It was evil and wrong yet I didn't really want him to stop. That sleeping woman inside of me woke up and took over, wanting what he felt he had to have, and I, the thinking, calculating part pushed him away. "What are you doing! I though you said this would never happen again!"_

"_You came …" he said hoarsely._

"_Not for this!"_

"_What do you think I'm made of Cathy? Steel? Cathy, don't do this again!"_

_I left him and cried in my own bed, for he was down the hall and not there to waken me if I had nightmares._

_No one to comfort me._

_No one to lend me strength-_

"Are you really receiving pleasure from that incest crap?"

Bella's head shot up to see a smirking Jefferson staring at her from across the round table. "Well," she laughed as she placed her piece of paper on the page she was on before closing her copy of _Petals on the Wind, _"look who decided to crawl out of their hole."

Jefferson tsked her as he twirled one of the chairs around and straddled it, folding his arms over the top and earning a glare from the stout librarian in the process. "I could say the same for you; no one's seen you in three days." his fingers played over a copy of _Alice in Wonderland_, amazingly, one of the few books Belle hasn't devoured just yet but one he had done so hundreds of times.

She shrugged and began to stack the pile she was going to take home for the day. "I've been dusting and painting my new apartment; that doesn't exactly leave a lot of room for socializing."

He grabbed half her stack and waltzed out the door with her, using it as an excuse to be near her. "You could have called me to help you out, or," his voice lowered to a playful mock, "a certain pawnbroker whom I'm sure would love to spend some time with you all alone in-"

Belle kicked him as hard as she could in the leg, swerving slightly to keep her books from crashing to the ground. "Shut up!" she hissed. She glanced around franticly but was relieved that the only people who could have heard them were a group of children at the far end of the library. "Are you trying to get me caught."

Jefferson chuckled and decided to let the abuse slid. He was the only person in all of Storybrook who knew of her "relationship", if that's what they had, with the despised Pawn Broker Mr. Gold. He would tease her about it, but he was never downright cruel as the other people in town would be if word got out. "Just offering a lovely suggestion darling."

Belle marched off, a slither of a smirk on her lips. "Well watch where you bring it up at." she hissed. She looked around, "I think the walls are on _her_ side."

"Quoting _Narnia_? I hated that book you know. In fact, I hate most of the books you check out; you have poor taste."

She wanted him to taste the leather on her copy of _Gone with the Wind _but decided to stick to combating. "At least I have variety. You've been checking the same book out for months!" she tapped her knuckles on the worn cover Alice in Wonderland.

"It's a classic here darling, but entirely unrelated to the facts." His smirk faltered slightly and he bowed his head to hide his grave expression, but he couldn't really hide anything from her nowadays. He knew of her feelings for Gold, and in return, she knew of his hatred for the world they lived in. Here, he had to spend each day watching his beloved little girl through a piece of long glass, never to hold her, kiss her out of her nightmares, or share a laugh with.

She brushed her arm along his, smiling supporting. "Sometimes the nonfiction helps us escape reality better."

He sighed. "This is a sucky reality at that."

"Come now Jefferson, don't be so-"

"Ah, Mr. Hatter."

The two outcasts shot around to see Mayor Mills approaching them, the sunglasses on her face reflecting the dim light in the sky. "So glad I could catch up with you." she turned to Belle and her curt smile shrugged down at the ends. "If you'd excuse us, Miss French?"

Belle let out a sigh and reached for her books. "I'll see you later." she stated, only to be stopped by Jefferson.

"I'm sorry Madame Mayor," Jefferson implied, stepping closer to Belle. "but as you can so plainly see, I'm very busy." he leaned in slightly closer. "So get the Hell away from me."

A sickly frown stuck to her face. She was obviously not used to being denied what she desired, and to be blown off by Jefferson of all people, who she once had in the very palm of her head, was a huge kick in the teeth to her authority.

Belle, sensing the tension, stepped forward and pressed a hand to Jefferson's shoulder. "We'll be going now Madame Mayor." She stated calmly. "Good day."

A smirk cracked from her thin lips, the words coming from her mouth just scratching the surface of what she what they were expecting. "The town psycho and the hermit: what a lovely pair you make." She hissed before stocking off, bumping into Belle with enough force to knock some of the books from her arms.

"Bitch." Jefferson growled, ready to storm after before Belle grabbed his arms and dragged him to the ground.

"Let it go, she's just jealous." She intertwined her fingers with his, smiling as brightly as her cheeks would allow. She wasn't flirting with him, not directly at least, but she knew if she didn't calm him down she would have to help put Regina in a body bag.

"True, but I know someone who just might be." He smirked and leant close, uncaring of the people gaping at them in the streets. "Look behind you."

She did glance behind her and felt her blood run cold at the sight of the villainess Mr. Gold standing several feet away, trying to make it seem that his entire focus was on the icecream he was snaking on in front of the ice-cream parlor.

Jefferson continued, "I really don't need to be evicted from my house, so…" he tugged his hands lightly from her grip and stood. She jumped up and blushed lightly, realizing just how far she almost went. She laughed then. "Mr. Gold doesn't own your house."

The ex-hatter gathered the rest of their books and nudged her up the street from Gold's death glare. "That won't stop him."

They were quiet as he walked her to her apartment. "Want to come in?" she offered. "It's a bit messy by I can get to the stove."

"Thanks love," he implied as he handed her the books, "But it is very ungentlemanly like to enter a lady's home without permission from her parents."

"I live alone; you know that."

"Still," he cocked his head in the direction behind them. "I don't want to hand my death wish over to him just yet." He smirked and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Give him a kiss for me!"

She laughed as he retreated. "You're mad!" The look on his face told her he agreed. He may have been completely insane, but he was the best friend she could ever have. He didn't judge her, scorn her, and was always ready to hear her voice. He was broken though, distraught from losing his child and chose to hide it even when she could see it so clearly. She'd find a way to repay him.

She unlocked her door very slowly as she steadied the books in her arms. She sighed in relief upon sitting them on a stool in the middle of the room and looked around her tiny home. It was still incredibly cluttered, with dried painted newspaper all over the palce. But she had a mental mark where to place everything, which was laughable for she had very little. She picked up a random box and began pulling out its contents. She found some books stands, which would well serve their use as soon as her job at the dinner went through, a picture of a garden, piece of her lamp—and a vase.

She smirked and remember the situation she had been in just a week ago, when she had had one of the worse arguments with her father and was ready to throw her hands up in the air and scream 'TO HELL WITH IT' when her cell phone started ringing. Mr. Gold was drunk— well, tipsy—and had stolen her father's flower truck, wanting to give her the entire lot of roses in the back. Though his efforts were in vain, their conversation had helped her get through the night, and his stunt the next morning left her smiling for three days. He may have been just showing out, trying to be another Gaston and impress her with stupidity, but unlike her ex-fiancé, his was _working_.

She set the vase in the middle of the table and picked up her bookends to find a place for them, turning around, she let out a small shriek while the heavy bookends slipped from her hands and landed to just barely miss her feet.

"Greetings to you too!" Gold greeted while failing to restrain a chuckle. He leaned his cane against the door frame and maneuvered the box he had clutched under his opposite arm.

She stared at him with look of disbelief and anxiety as the color returned to her face. "How did you get in here?"

"The door was open." Gold stated simply.

"No, it was locked." Belle retorted.

Gold shrugged, "It wasn't when I finished with it." He made a look as he waltz into the living room that showed that he had done something stupid and wrong. "Remind me to call the locksmith some time tomorrow to fix that."

She glared at him, the urge to kick him right in the rump becoming all the more tasteful. She held her composer though and smirked. "You could have just knocked." she pointed out.

He forged a look of shock. "And miss seeing the lioness at her most abrading of times; not for the world my lovely lady Belle!" his smile crinkled slightly. "Besides, I wanted to catch you and Jefferson in the act."

She felt her heart leap slightly. "Act of what?" she challenged.

He gave her a look that told her he wasn't playing that game.

She clonked him with the soft part of the book stand and placed them on the small shelve next to the boxes of books she had yet to unpack. "Just because you're my landlord doesn't mean you may just waltz in here when ever you feel like it." she teased. "Or stalk me in town when I'm having a friendly conversation with a _friend_." she made sure there was plenty of exaggeration on the world friend.

"Actually, dearie, it does."

She glared at him.

"Well it does. Not please be a good hostess and offer me a chair, my leg, dear."

She herself had been using the bed or a box, but she would use the most comfortable stool she owned. "I'd make tea but um…" she flashed back momentarily to the silver teapot set her father had turned into recyclable tin a few days before, "I seemed to have misplaced my tea ware."

"Ha! Well then it seems I came on a good day." He held out the box with a mischievous grin pasted on his lips. "Take this old, cracked, dusty trinket as a token of celebration for your lease, as well as your landlords cunning choice on timing?"

She burst out laughing, for his humor and that he would set the Jefferson matter aside. "I thought we agreed to no gifts."

He urged the box into her arms and gave her what was known as a 'puppy dog look'. "You'll like this Belle, I promise."

Sighing, she took the box and gently untied the blue ribbon and shot him a look with a small smile as she lifted the lid. She pushed aside the brown paper protecting the item and paused, stiffening a gasp. She pulled out a blue and white tea pot, accompanied with two cups of a similar design—one of which had a wide crack in it.

"Rum…you…" she turned the piece of china over in her hands, examining the simple keepsake with a heavy but happy heart. She up looked up at him, noticing the satisfied grin on his face. "Why did you keep this?"

He chuckled briefly, overcome with happiness that she was pleased. This had been nothing when she first broke it, only a simple drinking utensil. Somehow though, it became one of his most prized possessions (amongst her of course). It was his token of hers, their token of what they were, what they had lost, yet what they could gain. "You cracked it darling, it's yours now."

She snorted and placed the cup with the other. "You really know how to spoil the moment Gold."

Back to fake names again. Oh well, fun while it lasted.

She tapped her nail on the pot. "Want that tea now?"

He smirked and used his cane to stand. "Sorry Angel, but I do have other tenants to harass."

She sighed and stood with him, walking to the door ahead of him to open it. "Something tells me I'm not going to have neighbors by the end of the day."

He shrugged, but the smile told her all she needed to hear. "Just don't expect any casserole dishes from elderly widows."

She laughed and waited for him to brisk past, not to be seen for an unknown amount of time. He was moving unexceptional slow, even for a man with a cane. Sighing, she placed a hand on his shoulder and closed the space between them. "Come 'er." she wrapped her arms around his shoulders in a loose hug. He was warm and smelt of pine abstracts and shaving cream. She wouldn't mind if her entire house smelled like that. She leaned up and kissed his cheek, still soft from this morning's shave before pulling back, admiring the dumbstruck expression she had giving him.

He looked back at her. His eyes glowed, but his face was screwed in question. "That's it?"

She scoffed and shoved him out her door, careful not to cause further injury but hard enough to teach him not to take what she gave him for granted.

"Oh come now Belle!" he laughed outside the door. "Can I get one on the lips?"

"If you want any close contact ever again I suggest you get yourself on your way."

He sighed loudly and she heard the receding clicks of his cane. "Well then, I bid you a farewell."

She bit her lip to stifle the giggle brewing in her throat. "Until next time then!" She fastened the locks, frowning at the broken chain Gold had so generously left her to deal with. At least complaining to the landlord wouldn't be a problem.

Sighing, she returned to her table to place the vase by the window and center the teapot and cups in its place . If the closest thing to a relationship they could have in this world was a landlord's visit, she would savor every moment each time he knocked on the door, the same way she cherished her library visits with Jefferson.

"_The town psycho and the hermit: what a lovely pair you make."_

The major's comment from earlier made her shiver. She didn't love Jefferson like she did Rumplestiltskin. No, of course not. They were just friends who shared tastes in strange literature and loses. That's all they would ever be…

Wasn't it?

It had to be because Gold was possessive in any world.

/./././././././././././././././././././

He watched her window the rest of the day, standing in the exact spot he had three nights ago when he had abducted her father's flower van. His heart leaped each time he saw her face suddenly appear at the window as she moved things around to her liking. Though he still wished it was his home she was dismembering, he was greatly pleased to see her so happy, or at least seeming so happy. The only time he ever saw her eyes sparkle the way they did when she's happy was when he had given her the tea set, and when she was with that top hat wearing, passive psycho, Belle-stealing Jefferson.

Just thinking of him made his blood boil. What could that fool give her that he couldn't? He was obsessed with looking through a piece of glass, not giving his full on attention to Belle! At the moment, he could make her happy, but if things became too heated between them, there would be misery on both their parts. He wouldn't stand for it. He would walk through fire before Belle ended up with that freak (not that he had room to talk).

"Another lock out Goldilocks?"

Mr. Gold took in a deep breath before clutching the shreds of his patience and turning around to see the very man he wanted to dump in the creek. "What business could you possibly have here at this time of night, Mr. Hatter?"

Jefferson shrugged, a light smirk playing over his lips and he strolled towards him, his eyes averting back to Belle's window. "Just making sure our dear Lady Belle is comfortable."

"She's fine." Gold hissed with false sincerity. "Now go home."

His smile vanished. "Thanks to you, my home was taken from me, and everything, _everyone_, that came with it."

Mr. Gold rolled his eyes. They were going to play the "you're not the only one who remembers" game. "I believe you're placing the blame on the wrong person, Hatter."

"And I believe you're the saddest excuse of a man in this world for wasting your time watching her like a fish in a tank every night."

Mr. Gold leaned forward, ready to play his trump card. Even at his age, Jefferson still had an inch and a half as height leverage. "I'm a lucky man. I get to watch her directly, talk to her, listen to her, touch her, while some residents watch their loved ones through telescopes with the knowledge that they will never be with them again."

That struck a dire nerve in the Mad Hatter. He grabbed the man's front and shoved him into the light pole, causing Gold to drop his cane. He held them face to face, each breathing heavily with malice. "Watch yourself imp. A anonymous phone call got her out of the dark, and another can get her thrown back in just as quickly."

It was Gold's turn to have his nerves electrocuted. He found out shortly after Belle's release from the hospital that a mysterious caller had informed the hospital staff that the sole patient of Storybrook's insane asylum hadn't had an evaluation in over six months, thus breaking several requirements that all pointed to Regina Mill's. Belle finally got that evaluation and was declared as sane as anyone else in town. Gold just now put the pieces together.

Gold pushed him away, landing back on his feet with a hiss from his gnarled leg. "And I'm sure child welfare wouldn't mind taking that lovely Paige Morrison as far away from Storybrook as possible, don't you think."

Jefferson's features became dark, murderous. "You lay one hand on her-"

"And the same goes to you if I ever catch you in this area again." Mr. Gold growled smoothly with venom.

Jefferson regained his aloof expression and popped the stiffness out of his neck.

"That's better." Gold stated with a winning smirk. "Now get the Hell out of here."

After a moment more of intense glaring, Jefferson shot off, his heavy boots turning the gravel under him into sand. "She hasn't forgotten you know!" he shouted out as he stalked into the dark streets. "She tells me everyday how she can't get what you did to her out of her head; how she _hates _you for it!"

Mr. Gold looked away, trying to block the hatter's words out of his head.

"And she'll never forget. No matter what you do, she'll never forgive you!"

Gold resisted the urge to run after him and beat him unconscious with his cane; but Belle was too close by and he did not want to risk their relationship by attempting to kill her _book buddy. _

She didn't love Jefferson like she did him. No, of course not. They were just friends who shared tastes in strange literature and loses. That's all they would ever be…

Wasn't it?

Of course! It had to be. They had history, all she and Jefferson had was…well he wasn't entirely sure what happened to Belle after her detection from his services, but he was sure it was nothing for him to worry about. She was his, and no hatter-wearing, crooked, son of a Jefferson was going to take her from him without a bullet hole somewhere.

Smirking, Gold began the painful tread to his car which he had parked in an alley about a block away. He glanced back to Belle's room every now and again, but somehow missed the outline of her staring at him as he walked away.


	3. The Taste of Whiskey

It was a quiet, warm Friday night in Storybrook, Maine. Most citizens of this unchanging town were returning home from their workweeks to indulge in an eventless weekend with their loved ones. Others, such as Ruby Lucas and the younger generation of girls in the town, were digging in their wardrobes for their skimpiest outfits and favorite lip-gloss for a night on the town.

Belle, also known as Bella French, watched from the living room window as car after car sped past her home. She was to be a homebody tonight, despite being invited out by Ruby. She had had some not so pleasant experiences with "girls night out", most of them leading to her waking up with a bloody headache with her chastising Mr. Gold nursing her back to sobility over the phone.

Speaking of Mr. Gold, he was calling her right now.

"_Hello my lovely lady Belle!"_ He greeted loudly over the speaker.

Belle gave her ear a second to stop ringing before she answered him. "You better not be drunk again."

He chuckled. _"I like to be sober on my dates."_

She dropped the book she had been fiddling with on the table and focused her full attention on the conversation. "No way! Who is she, where are you taking her?"

"_Is that jealousy I hear in your accusation, Dearie?"_

She scoffed but was glad he couldn't he could see the look on her face. "Hardly. I just want to know what fool would dare throw their reputation aside to be seen with you." She bit her tongue as soon as the words left her mouth, knowing good and well she just added to what everyone else in Storybrook would say. He burst out laughing much to her relief, static pricking against her ear as he calmed down.

"_Well if you must know, dearie, I'm talking to that fool at this very moment!"_

"…What?"

"_Come out with me tonight! We'll drive far away from this place and drink until the next full moon!"_

"And wind in a ditch somewhere." Belle added. She smiled, wishing that she could jump in his car and let him take her wherever he wanted. Just her and her imp. "You know we can't." she said disappointedly.

She could almost feel his mood drop over the phone. _"Can't blame a guy for trying."_

She moved her curtain back and caught sight of him under the light pole, their spot as she christened it. It was quite odd to see him there during the day and put her senses on high alert. "Besides I'm suppose to meet Jefferson at the dinner tonight. It's Friday, you know."

"_You're willing to waste a perfectly good Friday night with that psycho but not with someone who truly wants spends time with you?"_

She sighed, her irritation building as his did. "I can't exactly call what we have spending time together."

He was silent for a moment before laughing, bitterly. _"Oh so we're punching nerves now? Well dearie, I can play that game just as well: why do you think Jefferson takes you to Granny's every Friday evening?"_

"Because the library is closed." She answered with confidence. Why did he always use her relationship with Jefferson against her?

"_That's his cover-up story, darling." _He hissed_. "Every Friday evening at 7:41, exactly eleven minutes after he leads you to the bar seats closest to the door, a little girl and her parents enter the dinner. That, my lovely lady Belle is why he takes you there. It's only an excuse to get closer to his little girl."_

Belle lowered her phone for a moment to take in what he said. She knew good and well how crazy Jefferson was about regaining his daughter, and the idea that he would take her somewhere just so he could see her made plenty of sense.

"_Now that I think of it,"_ Mr. Gold went on_, "I dare believe that little Grace and her parents go the park every Wednesday around noon, the same time he takes you to that bench in front of the swings."_

She always thought that Jefferson chose the most random places for them to meet up at, but only now did she put the sound of Grace's laughter into the pictures. She had always been there, but Belle hadn't seen Jefferson staring at her each time he showed up.

"What exactly are you trying to accomplish by telling me that?"

"_I was trying to help take the wool off your eyes dearie. He doesn't want to spend time with you. He just needs and escort each time he stalks the little girl so that he won't look like a predator. You mean little is anything to him."_

"You have the right to call him a stalker." Belle growled. "You don't think I know you stand outside my window every other night? Or that you walk back and forth past the flower shop just to see what I'm doing?"

"_I'm looking out for you."_

"And Jefferson's not? I am the closest thing he has to a friend, and he is mine, whether you approve or not."

"_You're right, I don't approve. Which is exactly why it sickens me that he's treating you like this."_

"At least he didn't throw me out on the streets and leave me for dead." She could make out the slight paleness in his face at that comment, but she wouldn't apologize. "Now if you would excuse me, I have someone waiting for me." She shut her phone and pulled the curtain over the window, not wanting to see him.

She heard the sound of a roaring engine moments late speeding down the street. She knew she'd eventually apologize, but at the moment she wanted to hold on to the anger he had caused her and turn it into booze.

.,.,.,.,.

"Who pissed you off?" Jefferson chuckled as Belle slammed down on a stool at the bar. She gave him a look that stated he needed to wait for her to get a drink before he started teasing and questioning her. She ordered a shot of cranberry juice with just a few drops of whisky to settle her nerves.

"Relationship troubles?" he pondered as he leant his head on his fist.

She scoffed. "I can't even call it that. He is such an asshole sometimes I could shoot him."

"You'd be applauded by many." Jefferson muttered with a sip of his own drink.

Belle mused over the man she was infatuated and angry at. In this nightmare they were stuck in, he was heartless, cruel, vicious, and ready to crush anyone. She hadn't seen any of those traits until just thirty minutes ago, and now she feared she was on the verge of hating him as well. But she knew she never could. Yes, he had hurt her then and now, but he was a part of her that she wouldn't trade for anything.

They were like oil and water: one was greasy and unhealthy, while the other was cool and refreshing. Put them together and they were perfect.

"What did he do?"

Belle looked up to see Jefferson gazing at her intensively. She smiled. Maybe Gold had lied to her about Jefferson not caring about her out of jealously. "Well," she began, "I had, let's say, an argument with you know who right before coming here and-"

"Daddy, can we have cake this time?"

Belle looked away from Jefferson long enough to see who was yelling so. Her breath stilled when she saw little Paige Morrison holding her hands together and whispering 'please' to her "father". The man sighed and muttered something that made Paige squeal and jump into his arms.

A crack shocked Belle out of her trance and she turned to Jefferson. The shot glass in his fist had been reduced to shards of glass easing their way into his skin.

"Jefferson!" Belle hissed, grabbing his wrist and pulling the bloody chips from his skin.

"She shouldn't be hugging him." he stated quietly. "Not my Grace. My little girl…"

The words "she's not your daughter" hung on Belle's lips, but she knew that nothing made him more violent then having his title of "father" ripped from him. No matter where they were, Grace belonged to Jefferson, no objections.

Luckily, the cuts weren't too severe and needed only a slight bandaging from the first aid kit behind the counter. Jefferson's eyes remained locked on the little girl woofing down a large slice of chocolate cake. She was finished just as quickly as she had began and skipped out the door while her "father" paid the bill.

"Bye!" she exclaimed to them as she left.

Belle literally had to hold Jefferson down to keep him from going after her. "You can't Jefferson; you know that." She held on to him tightly knowing that anything could happen if she let him leave his chair.

"Is he alright?" asked the waitress filling in for Ruby that evening.

"He's fine-just give him two more of those." Belle stated with a nod towards their empty shot glasses.

He slammed his fists into the countertop, seething and shaking from the Grace withdrawal.

Belle could only feel sympathy for him. There was a time she was clawing at the walls from missing on a certain imp and her family so much.

Maybe Gold was right and Jefferson was using her, but the way she saw it, it wasn't to cover up his possessiveness, it was to be his console. He needed someone to tell him it was going to be alright, even if it was an all out lie. And she needed to feel useful. Gold had so much power that she sometimes felt like a mere trinket in his eyes; like he didn't need her. But with Jefferson, she wasn't just the beloved wallflower, she was an equal, and she could do something with their friendship.

She soothed him as he gulped down his shot—and hers—before he finally let out a nervous laugh. "Sorry."

"Don't even worry about it." She assured. "If things were different, you'd do the same thing for me."

He gave her an unsure shrug and she smacked him on the shoulder. They laughed and things were as they should be—until the stool beside her pulled back.

"I'll have what their having."

Belle felt her body stiffen as Mr. Gold fell into the seat just a few inches from her own. She held her head high and kept her gaze directly on the forest wallpaper and on Jefferson, who had on his "well this is awkward" smirk.

"We can move." He suggested loud enough for Gold could hear him. "It seems the view's become a bit too…golden."

Belle managed to hold in her chuckle. "I think we're fine." She saw Gold's tense shoulders loosen a bit.

"'K." Jefferson said. "Just say the word when the company becomes too bothersome."

"You may address me directly, dearie," Mr. Gold hissed without looking at them. "I'm more than interest in being a part of your drivel."

Belle sighed and grinded her jaw, "Don't do it." She whispered to him.

"Well," Jefferson began with a sip from the new drink the waitress hurriedly sat down before them, "at least our conversations are a bit more personal, unlike your late-night phone sex."

"Jefferson!" Belle exclaimed. She didn't recall telling him _that_ much of her relationship with Gold. Not that they did do something that extreme; though there were nights when Gold's brogue made her warm all over and she had to laugh off her needs while he husked rather inappropriate comments in her ear.

Gold let off one of his smirks that showed that someone was about to get their ass kicked. "Oh you'd like to get that lucky, wouldn't you Hatter."

"Oh God," Belle groaned into her hands.

Jefferson leaned in closer, his hot, strong breath hitting Belle's neck. She realized when she peaked that he had one hand on the back of her chair, pulling her closer to him. "What makes you think I'm not."

Belle blinked maybe twice before she realized what was happening. Gold had somehow, with no cane mind you, dragged Jefferson off his stool and had him pinned against the wall beside the door. She shrieked and shot up to try to solace their kill-fest.

"You son of a bitch!" Gold screamed while he shook him.

"Leave your mother out of this!" called a drunk Sean from across the diner who was being told to shut up by a more sober David Nolan.

"Really mature!" Belle called in his direction as she pried Gold off of Jefferson and used her body as a shield between them.

"Get out of the way Belle." Gold hissed in a warning tone.

"He's right _Bella,_" Jefferson pressed, knowing how irate the mention of Belle's fake name fired up the former Dark One, "we wouldn't want you to get Goldie Locks blood on that pretty dress of yours."

"Let's see how much of my blood's on her after I bash your head in!"

By now they were spitting threats at each other as Belle tried desperately to keep them apart. David must have sensed her distress for he stepped in and held Jefferson back while Belle tried to keep Gold at bay.

"You're trash Gold!" Jefferson screamed.

"And you're the sorry excuse for a pedophile I've ever met Hatter!"

Jefferson lunged and Belle was accidentally thrust into several out of place chairs, causing her to hit her head on the table before dropping to the floor. She watched hazily as David become a piece of bruised meat in their sandwich of physical combat. She buried her head in her arms. Damn her for thinking that she could find happiness with two men who either had one too many death wishes or had absolutely nothing to lose.

Gold had his hands around Jefferson's neck while he was using every once of his physical will to break Gold's ribs. These actions stilled when a loud bang made all the patrons of the fight freeze on command.

"What the Hell is going on?!" Sherriff Emma Swan exclaimed, pistol raised at the ceiling.

The seven or so onlookers in the diner stepped back, returning to their tables or sprinting to other exits to avoid being a part of the controversy between the Belle fighters. Only David remained, trying to keep them as far apart as he could while Emma put her gun away. She and Jefferson locked eyes first. She had far from forgotten the kidnapping incident that almost got them both killed. However, due to the incriminating evidence the events of that night could place on Mary Margret, Emma had no choice but to pretend it never happened. His eyes smirked at their encounter, but his swollen lip bled and took some of the irony out of the situation.

She turned to Gold next who was still seething fire at Jefferson. He had the same murderous look in his eyes the night she all but yanked him off of Moe French. Jefferson seemed like the last person in Storybrook he would pick a fight with. He owed him nothing and even if a verbal insult was thrown his way he would have brushed it off; she herself had said some very unladylike things to him that he merely grinned at.

She turned to James then who was red in the face. "Well?"

Hesitantly, he nodded off in a farther direction. Emma turned and gasped as Belle finally picked herself up among the clutter of chairs, blood tinkling down her lip.

"Oh shit!" Jefferson muttered in disbelief.

Gold was just as pale and attempts to approach her. "Are you-"

"Don't touch me!" she back lashed, throwing her hands up in defense. She backed away, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Bella wait!" Jefferson begged.

She ignored her friend's plea and shot out of the dinner, oozing through the crowd while trying to control her sobbing.

"Belle!" Gold called after her.

But she kept running, hurt and angry at herself and the men she let hold her heart.

Gold tried to spring after her but Emma was already dressing him in handcuffs. "You're under arrest."

Jefferson bowed his head and made his way to the door, whistling a low tune of innocents.

"No you don't!" Emma hissed, grabbing him with her free hand. "You're under arrest too."

The ex-hatter cursed and allowed Emma to drag him back and handcuff him.

"And it's a pleasure doing it." she hissed with a twig of irony.

He mustered a smirk before turning to his attacker. "Look's like we're cell mates for tonight."

"Don't drop the soap." Gold snarl, earning a satisfying pale from the hatter and sheriff alike. His eyes searched the streets for his beloved Belle but found no trace of her except the accusing eyes of the onlookers. He could still feel them even when he was thrown into the back of the squad car, Jefferson crashing into him shortly later.

"Well." the hatter sighed.

"Well what?" Gold growled.

He smirked, that insanity bright. "You've certainly looked out for her tonight, showed her "stalker" just how far you're willing to go to keep her safe."

Emma risked the safety of herself and her passengers to glance at the rearview mirror. Mr. Gold looked as if he was about to pass out.

"How…" his look of disbelief changed into a snarl. "You bugged her phone!"

Jefferson shrugged like the question was completely acceptable. "You're not the only one who's willing to go to extremes to protect _our_ darling _Bella_." his expression became grave, serious and still maddening. "And I will protect her, if not from you than myself."

"And what," Gold hissed, the confined space making his urge to choke Jefferson to death all the more harder, "is that suppose to mean?"

He flashed him that mysterious grin loaded down with so many questions and threats before he turned to the window to enjoy the sites as much as he could through the mesh-covered glass. He hoped to see Belle, but was never too fortunate with matters relating to her.

Emma's eyebrow lifted with concern and question but decided that all of that could wait until they were safely at the station-and the two in the back were locked up in separate cells.


End file.
